A Love Letter to Our Future Selves

A Glimpse Into What a Love Sustained by Marriage Can Look Like in the Midst of Hard Days

Dear Future Lover, 

Do you remember those craft paper booklets we made for our wedding guests? They were full of quotes and song lyrics that best represented what our marriage meant to us. My favorite was the opening page with Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s infamous words impressed in gold leaf across it: 

“It’s not the love that sustains the marriage, but the marriage that sustains the love.” 

I remember thinking that was one of the most romantic things I had ever heard. Picture us, sagging faces and pruney hands, still holding each other despite all hardship. Still saying, “It’s you,” through years of plenty and, perhaps, years of want. We didn’t know what was coming for us then, but we knew that this marriage was always going to be a thorough line in the midst of all of it. 

Our assurance in us was like our knowledge that summer would come after spring. It will be there. It always will. 

That felt like a comfort, at least at the time. 

…

“Let’s go for a walk,” I suggest feebly. 

Geneva jumps up to grab her coat as the boys go buzzing around the house in search of their shoes. 

You barely lift your eyes to mine as you nod in agreement. 

We both wear our exhaustion like a cloak as we make our way to the car—battle-worn and weary. 

This fight is one of many. Too many. A string of weeks where neither of us can do anything right. And while we raise the white flag and find a resolution today, this time, the conclusion seems more like a truce—an agreement to lay down our weapons for an allotted time, knowing that the war isn’t over. 

The kids go scurrying ahead of us on the trail. We don’t try to catch up with them. The silence hangs between us like an impenetrable wall. 

We’re not angry with each other anymore, just sad.

Our quiet is interrupted by the faint ding of a calendar notification on my phone.  

“Hey!” I say, lightheartedly as possible, as I stare at my screen. “Twelve years ago today, we had our first date.”

“Really?” you look dumbfounded. The differences between that day and this one stand in stark contrast.

“Says it right here,” I say, holding up my phone. 

That day flashes through my mind like a movie: 

• Your eyes grow wide as I walk up to you in my pink dress. You mumble under your breath, “Wow! You look beautiful!” 

• We lock eyes on the dance floor, and I think, “I haven’t felt this confident about anyone in a long time.”

• You open the door for me, pull out my chair, walk me to my car, stick out your hand, and ask for a slow dance. You are a gentleman in every way. 

• You hold my hand for the first time. 

• You become more than my friend in one dizzying moment. 

That night was one I will never forget. 

We continue walking in silence. You grab my hand and squeeze it. The firmness of your grip tells me everything I need to know. 

…

Persistent: the ability to remain unchanged or fixed in a specified character, condition, or position.

This is us. 

…

It’s family movie night. The kids are dancing around us, screaming (who knows what) in gleeful excitement as we pop the popcorn and make a pillow fort. One of our kids makes a semi-funny joke. You and I laugh hysterically. No one marvels at our kids the way we do. 

Our shared DNA perfectly collaborated to create these little works of art. We ignite with excitement every time they experience a “first.” We celebrate each hurdle they overcome as if it’s our own. Our shared investment in their growth is one of the greatest creative works of our lives, and doing it together, well, there’s nothing else like it. 

I catch you smiling at me across the room. It was another rough day for us, but at this moment, all of that fades away.

…

Some marriages seem so easy. They’ve refined the right skill set, memorized the dance steps, and developed rhythm so early on that they move about each other with the ease and comfort of experienced dancers. We marvel when we interact with couples like that. That’s never been us, though. 

We’re clunky and full of missteps. And, as Andrew Peterson says, marriage is a lot like dancing through a minefield, so, it’s messy.

…

Not to sound overly dramatic, but at times marriage feels like a death. Okay, I know that sounds intense, but really it shouldn’t. The author of Love demonstrated what love actually looks like by laying down his life for us, and in turn, he called us to lay down our lives for one another. (See: John 15:13)

I think I’ve romanticized the idea of “laying down my life” for you over the years, though. Sure, I’d die for you, but if you load the dishwasher the wrong way, you’ve crossed a line. 

…

Here’s what I know, we’re still here, and the fact that we are says something about our love. It’s real. It hasn’t always been romantic or thrilling or easy  (although there have been many seasons it has). But our love is persistent, and that’s about the most romantic thing I can think of. 

You and I know that for every difficult season we’ve endured, every long drought or harsh winter, we’ve known days that feel like simple joys and moments when laughter came easy. We’ve known desire and want for one another, and we have a long history of shared jokes and private memories. 

We also know, all those moments of joy are simply grace. We have never been the heroes of our story, but God has always been good on his promise. He has kept us and will keep us to the very end, and he will do this so the watching world can see what gospel love really looks like. 

Tim Keller, famously quoted for this line, once said:

To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God. It is what we need more than anything. It liberates us from pretense, humbles us out of our self-righteousness, and fortifies us for any difficulty life can throw at us.

You and I have taught each other so much about this kind of love. 

It has never been our romance or like-mindedness or ease that has sustained our marriage, but our marriage has created love, a love, unlike any other human love we’ve known.

So you’re going to keep holding my hand, and I’m going to keep looking you in the eye when you tell a long story. We’re going to fall asleep next to each other every night, and I’m going to try to remember to kiss you when I walk out the door. Sometimes these things will feel as easy as breathing, but when they don’t we’ll do it anyway, knowing summer is coming again.

Love,

Your Forever Love